


I See You

by NemesisGray



Series: Dance Monkey [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23025940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemesisGray/pseuds/NemesisGray
Summary: title from the song "I See You" by MISSIOCamhaoir is said : KUH-vay-ER
Relationships: Female Imperial Agent|Cipher Nine/Aric Jorgan
Series: Dance Monkey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676395
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> also, since she wasn't raised by the Chiss then her accent is more Irish than British. 
> 
> And I have Ruth Bradley & Orla Brady as the inspiration.
> 
> voice reference for Ruth Bradley-> https://youtu.be/pKcqTOYSy0g
> 
> voice reference for Orla Brady -> https://youtu.be/e1vZefvNV6E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camhaoir is said : kuh-vay-or  
> means "dawn" or "day-break" from what i can find  
> also this is the way to pronounce also from what i can find.

She never knew she was illegal until she was fourteen and the Ascendancy showed up.

She never knew a child could be illegal before.

But it was against Ascendancy laws for her to exist.

She tried not to take it personally. Her parents always warned her that she would be viewed in a negative light in most of the galaxy. 

Being the child of a Cathar and a Chiss.

It wasn’t done.

Not really.

Not in Ascendancy or Imperial space.

“You’ll come with us or your family will perish for crimes against the Ascendancy.” the representative of the Ascendancy stated, matter of fact, a perfectly black sculpted brow arched insolently.

She frowned, not daring to look to her parents.

If she left, she’d never see her family again.

If she stayed her family would be killed.

There was only one choice.

“I’ll go with you.” Camhaoir Rul stated.

The representative smiled callously. “Excellent. we'll have to work on the accent”

#

Camhaoir didn’t get a chance to pack a bag or say her farewells, she was handcuffed, drugged, and dragged from her home.

She was fourteen.

At the academy, she surpassed her fellow students; a combination of biology, she inherited Cathar reflexes and musculature due to her father’s DNA, and her parents’ training. Her father was former SIS. Her mother was former Ascendancy special forces then leant to the Empire for agent training.

Her parents made sure Camhaoir was prepared.

She didn’t realize it until this exact moment as the rifle was placed in her hands.

But she excelled. Despite all odds.

People whispered it was her DNA. They were only half correct, DNA would’ve been meaningless without the proper training and her parents made sure to give her.

Her biology and physiology did lend itself to a perfect agent. Her unique genetic makeup was what made her such a good agent. Perfect blend of Cathar and Chiss eyes, able to see in the ultraviolet spectrum and the normal spectrum as well, being able to see in pitch dark. The way her muscles and ligaments adhered to her bone structure, purely Cathar; she was able to jump higher, run faster, crouch for longer periods to time, take down an enemy combatant better, faster. She was stronger. Better than the pure Chiss or other species operatives. She had Cathar hearing as well. And, when it came to hand-to-hand, it was discovered she had another Cathar trait, claws she could unsheathe. As long as she never wore gloves, she was never weaponless. Cathar claws, Cathar teeth, Cathar strength. A languid, liquid grace that drew a mark’s eye even if her looks advised them caution.

She was a complete asset.

The only downside, the only proof she was a mongrel was her bright pink hair and her obviously pointed, fuzzy ears. 

Her directors told her to dye her hair, round her ears, remove the pink fuzz that grew along the shell of her ears forming a tuft at the tip of each point, wear contacts to hide her wine colored irises, to make her eyes the usual Chiss red, get plastic surgery to remove her very Cathar facial features.

Camhaoir refused. She rather liked her looks, and while she viewed her body as too stick-thin, too scrawny, too wiry, too waifish to be attractive, it was her body and she loved it. She wouldn’t change it for the world.

No matter how many beatings she received.

It was her own little rebellion.

And she kept her looks as a tribute to her parents. The parents she’d never see again.

Not while she was alive. Not while they were alive if she was even allowed to know of their deaths.

Her parents always knew there was a possibility of being discovered, of their daughter being conscripted into the Ascendancy Expansionary Force. 

“Here is your target.” the instructor slipped her a piece of paper.

Camhaoir studied it before nodding.

Her instructor raised an eyebrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Camhaoir wasn’t sure how she felt when she laid eyes on General Rakton, the man she was to serve under.

She knew the man to be cruel by the curve of his lips, the tightness around his eyes, the gleam in his eyes.

She learned definitively Rakton was a bastard the first time she killed her first target.

He backhanded her because she took too long. He wanted the target dead in two days. She killed the target on the third.

Rakton’s backhand hurt, it busted her lip, made her bleed the burgundy blood of Cathar.

“Mongrel!” Rakton sneered pulling back his fist to break her nose. “They can’t even send me a proper Chiss! Which would’ve been bad enough, but they sent me this mongrel! No wonder it took three days!”

So, the next target Camhaoir took out two hours within getting the mission.

Rakton broke her jaw that time. For showing up proper, purer snipers. For being uppity.

“I did what you directed.” she said slowly, her natural lilt showing itself in her anger, speaking through the pain, her hand cradling her jaw.

“The mongrel has no right to speak!” Rakton struck her with his datapad. "Especially if its just going to jabber in unintelligible babble." He struck her with his datapad again. 

Camhaoir learned never to talk back.

It was after she took her third target within twenty-four hours, another beating, another dressing down that she learned that no matter what she did it would never be good enough.

“Mongrel freak.” Rakton kicked her broken ribs, his boot crunching, she winced, it felt as if a rib was precariously close to puncturing a lung. 

Camhaoir staggered to the medical tent.

Rakton never touched her face. He’d been directed not to by the Expansionary Force, but he broke everywhere else.

Camhaoir loathed Rakton.

Loathed him with everything she had.

The only thing that stopped her from killing him was what the representative of the Ascendancy told her.

_Do everything properly or your family will die. Horribly. We’ll give them to the Inquisitors. You know what they do, don’t you? Imagine your little brother, your little sister tore apart like the freaks they are by the Sith and be a good mongrel for us. Maybe one day, we’ll let you free._

So, she did nothing. She took the abuse, lowered her eyes when Rakton or his lieutenants walked past so she didn’t get hit for thinking, for looking, for existing.

She had to protect her little siblings.


	3. Chapter 3

Hector Pierce loved working for General Rakton. The man was a visionary in Pierce’s young opinion.

“Who’s the freak?” one of the other new recruits asked, a Sergeant Tanido, pointing towards the other side of the camp.

Hector turned, looking for what Tanido was pointing towards and saw the freak.

Magenta hair, lapis skin, sniper rifle slung across her back. Or, he guessed it was her. The freak was so flat it was hard for him to tell. 

Then again, the freak was a Chiss and he never trusted the blue-skinned freaks.

“Oh, that is Rakton’s pet on loan from the Ascendancy.” An officer sneered. “You don’t have to pay attention to it. It just does as ordered and if it bothers you, feel free to teach it better.”

“If it’s from the Ascendancy, wouldn’t hurting it bring down the wrath of the blue-bastards?” Tanido frowned.

Hector frowned as well. The Ascendancy did not like anybody hurting Chiss.

“Oh, the blue-bastards don’t give a karking poodoo about the freak.” The officer sneered. “Just don’t hurt it so bad it can’t do its job. If it can’t do its job of sniping enemies, then we get in trouble.”

Tanido nodded. “Understood.”

Hector understood as well. 

#

Camhaoir’s head snapped to the side. One of the new Imperials, Hector Pierce was a monster of a man that enjoyed punishing her for her success.

She killed more targets than he and his friends did.

And that wasn’t allowed. Apparently.

Pierce’s fingers dug into her jaw, squeezing her face.

“Listen freak,” his breath smelled of onions and rancid beer, “you’re nothing. Stop showing up your betters!”

He flung her to the ground.

She felt as her back slammed against one of the many boulders around the clearing, her Cathar body bending around the boulder, lessening the impact, leaving her badly bruised but not injured.

She pretended otherwise. Feigning unconsciousness, she didn’t even make a noise as his boot connected with her stomach.

She knew better than to defend herself and she knew better than to cry out in pain.

It wouldn’t help.

It never did.

She only opened her eyes, merely a slit, as Pierce and his cronies walked laughing, arm in arm, back to the camp.

#

Hector Pierce was being transferred. So was his buddy Tanido.

Before either man left, they made sure to give Camhaoir a beating so horrendous they broke her arm.

Rakton laughed but still punished them. Slaps on the wrist, nothing more.

They took his best sniper out of commission.

Camhaoir may be a freak, a mongrel, nothing more than garbage with less humanity than a droid or akk dog, but she was still a useful tool. One doesn’t break a useful tool and expect no consequences.

She then got punished for breaking her arm. More scars along her back, more lashes, and in one case, a homemade branding iron out of somebody’s rifle barrel.

The only positive she got out of the entire experience was that she learned how to shoot with one arm.

It hurt, climbing to her nest with one arm, hefting and holding her massive rifle steady with one arm. But she did it.

She didn’t feel the pain although she should have.

She no longer felt anything.

The final beating was enough for her to lock herself away.

Now all she wished was death.

Peaceful, releasing death.


	4. Chapter 4

Four years.

Four years of beatings, of punishments, of being Rakton’s personal whipping-girl.

Every day she woke up, sat in her nest over whatever battlefield. Every night she went to sleep after being punished for doing her job.

Normally, that day would’ve been no different, falling into the same pattern as the last four years.

But, no.

There was a sniper from the Republic opposite from her.

Oh, that made her day so much more interesting and pleasant. 

The wonderful, out of the ordinary day that could have ended in her death.

Upon that realization, Camhaoir felt something she hadn’t felt since before she left home.

Hope.

A small spark of hope.

Hope sprang eternal after all.

#

Aric cursed.

“What?” Torve asked.

“There’s another sniper.” the Cathar growled.

“One of ours?” Torve glanced up at his CO.

“No.” Aric frowned, looking back through his scope. “Chiss. Magenta hair. Not one of ours.”

Torve was silent. “They made a move?”

Aric’s frown deepened. “No.”

“Do they know we’re here?”

“Yes.”

Torve fell silent again.

The two men exchanged looks. If the Imperial sniper knew they were there, how long could they sit in anonymity?

#

Camhaoir sighed. Republic snipers were useless.

She growled and punched the rock, heavily bruising her fingers but not caring, not feeling it.

Why haven’t they shot her? Why haven’t they called in an aerial strike to take out her nest?

“Useless cowards!” she hissed again.

Knowing the other sniper was watching, she tossed a massively rude hand gesture at the Republic sniper and began the arduous climb down from her nest, already forming a plausible lie of why she didn’t take out her target.

#

“The hell?” Aric blurted.

“Sir?” Torve asked.

“She’s leaving. She’s climbing down from her nest and leaving.” He turned shocked eyes to his XO. “She shot a pretty rude hand gesture as well.”

Torve blinked at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” Aric looked back through his scope, finger stroking the trigger, the Chiss was still in his sights, he could still get her, but something was holding him back. “It really karking doesn’t make sense,” he whispered to himself, watching the retreating figure get out of range.


	5. Chapter 5

The planet was muddy, constantly raining, humid. It was some key planet that didn’t seem too key to her, but she merely went where Rahkton went. Like a tick on a dog.

The metaphor was fitting but she wasn’t sure if she was the tick or the general was.

She thought, personally, Rahkton was the tick. He certainly sucked her life away these past four years in this shitty, never-ending war. She was born when her parents were still fighting it and now, she was doing just the same.

What absolute banthashit.

Glaring through her scope at the battlefield below her, she tried to keep her mind on the task at hand and not her life. Entrenched in her sniper’s nest, she tried to outsnipe the Republic sniper.

They were about even at the moment.

Both having taken out their targets.

Camhaoir admired him. She could scent him. All male, all Cathar. She wondered if this Republic sniper was the same from the last planet. The useless one.

She sniffed, wiping the water from the constant drizzle off her nose. She wished she inherited the Chiss olfactory gene instead of the Cathar one. At the moment, she didn’t want to scent the battlefield, the rotting corpses, the shit, piss, and everything awful that came with war.

Lifting her rifle, peering through the scope and taking out the Republic general the same time the other sniper took out an Imperial Moff.

Even.

Perfectly, evenly matched.

It was a real shame really.

This interaction with this sniper, with this deadeye, was the only highlight in her pathetic life.

She kept hoping that whoever the male sniper was that he’d find her, see a reflection off her scope, a flash of her blue skin, magenta hair, anything, and place a bolt through her skull.

End this farce of a friendly competition.

End everything.

It was what she needed.

What she desperately wanted.

She couldn’t kill herself, having been told that killing herself to get out of the contract guaranteed her family’s death.

But to die on the battlefield, to be taken out by an enemy; perfect.

She closed her eyes, sniffing and wiping more water off the tip of her nose.

Ah.

There was somebody climbing up to where she was. Not the Cathar. Somebody else. Human.

“Finally.” she breathed, smiling, her hands releasing the rifle, standing to face her attacker.

She had to make it look good.

But she didn’t plan on winning.

“Took you long enough.” 

The man coming to kill her was young. 

He sneered at her, a vibrodagger held in his hand.

She held her arms wide, motioning him closer. “Come on then.”

He lunged.

She ducked the first strike, breaking his nose with her palm and his momentum.

They circled around each other. If she was fighting for real, her assassin would be dead. She was a much better fighter than him.

But she wasn’t fighting for real.

Finally, she slipped -purposely- allowing his blade to enter her chest.

He missed her heart, but she could bleed out.

Slipping to her knees, she grinned up at him, thankful, relieved.

“Thank you,” she whispered before falling backwards, hands wrapped around the hilt of the vibrodagger in her chest.

Everything was going black, graying around the edges.

Her body going cold, numb.

Perfect.

Her family was safe, and she was finally free.


	6. Chapter 6

Camhaoir felt something she hadn’t felt--no, what she hadn’t **_allowed_** herself to feel in years. 

Anger. Righteous, furious anger coursing through her veins, making her jaws and fist clench, resulting in her face hurting and her claws pricking her palms. She’d have scars based on her claws alone.

She was alive. 

Against all odds she was alive.

Stabbed in the chest and yet here she was. Glaring at the roof of the tent. Alive.

She growled, shredding the skin of her palms, shredding the sheets in her frustration. 

Alive.

She was alive.

Saved by Imperial Intelligence because they didn’t want to lose their investment.

Investment.

Asset. Investment.

A thing.

She was a thing and she wasn’t dead.

She hissed.

“Miss, please.” The med-droid clamped its hands around her wrists, forcing her hands to unclench. “Do not make me sedate you again.” A syringe appeared from one of its many arm compartments.

Camhaoir started laughing; harsh, manic, insane, deranged. 

The droid jabbed the needle deep into her arm.

Her laughter turned to airy giggles as the drugs took effect and everything faded to black once more.


	7. Chapter 7

_We’re not done with you yet._

Camhaoir grimaced at her reflection, remembering the words from her Ascendancy handler.

_We’re placing you on a more permanent loan to the Empire. The deal with your family still applies._

More hidden threats, more verbal knives. Knives to her throat. Her family’s throat.

She was exhausted.

But she’d heard a rumor that field agents didn’t live past five years. 

It made her transfer to Imperial Intelligence bearable. 

She only had years left to live.

Then the job would kill her. Hopefully painlessly. A knife in the back, a rival slipping poison into her drink, an undercover job gone wrong. 

So many infinite possibilities. 

Perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

Hutta had to be the ass-end of the galaxy. The very air gave Camhaoir the sense of putrefaction, rotting flesh, the horrors of the battlefield embodied on an entire planet. And people lived here on purpose.

She wished for the millionth time since being conscripted into working for the Ascendancy that she inherited the Chiss olfactory senses instead of Cathar. 

Leaving the spaceport, she stepped in something that squelched and she tried not to think about it too hard. The entire planet was nothing but slime, muck, and other various putrences. 

She shot a random vagrant in the face because he dared to get in front of her. She was busy. She had a cantina to find, a holoterminal to slice, and Keeper to contact.

Or, she hoped it was a vagrant and not somebody important. She wasn’t paying attention. The planet hurt her eyes. Something about the radiation screwing with her sensitive eyes. Her eyes had always been finicky. The wine-colored iris in the blush-colored sclera, being both Chiss and Cathar. It was if her genetic make-up couldn’t decide which to make dominate so it gave her a mishmash of traits. The Chiss ability to see the infrared spectrum, the Cathar ability to see in the dark, and of course, the fact that her eyes glowed eerily in the dark from both of her parents. Due to the strangeness that were her eyes, she often found herself wearing sunglasses on certain planets. And it was never a definable pattern for which planets had her pulling out her sunglasses.

Or, one that she could quickly figure out. Nor did she care too. 

She’d been an agent for ten years already. She no longer cared about anything.

She lived, ironically, for her death.

Carelessly putting on her sunglasses, Camhaoir made her way to the cantina, ignoring the gang war and shooting any gang member that deigned to shoot at her first.

She may want to die, but she respected herself too much to get gunned down on a shitty, Huttspawn planet by a pithy gang goon.

#

Camhaoir and the Rattataki studied each other. Camhaoir was slightly taller than the Rattataki. But she wasn’t sure she’d win if they got into a fight. It’d be an even match.

Camhaoir smiled suddenly, throwing the Ratakai off guard.

“Watch your back, Kaliyo.” Camhaoir’s lilting accent came out, confusing the other woman even more.

“You watch mine.” Kaliyo’s gaze racked up and down Camhaoir’s body. “I’ll watch yours.”

Camhaoir watched as Kaliyo sauntered away. 

#

Another successful mission.

“Shab!” Camhaoir stumbled through the private shuttle Keeper somehow procured.

She lifted the bottle of vodka she swiped from Nemro’s palace to her lips, chugging down three-fourths of the bottle before the need for air caused her to bring the bottle down, gasping for breath.

Drinking stolen vodka wasn’t making her feel better. 

She cheated death once again.

The joys of having a partner.

“Shab!” Camhaoir chunked the bottle at the nearest wall, collapsing to her knees as the bottle shattered against the metal. “Why can’t I just die?”


	9. Chapter 9

“You ain’t all there, are ya?” Kaliyo asked the agent she put her lot in with back on Hutta.

Camhaoir answered with a giggle.

Yep. Kaliyo nodded to herself. Definitely not all there.

“Kaliyo, is anybody ever truly all there?” Camhaoir asked instead of answering the question.

Which, Kaliyo reasoned, was answer enough. “People like to pretend they are anyway.”

The agent nodded sagely. “Exactly right.”

Kaliyo blinked as the agent sauntered away, carelessly placing sunglasses on her face. Which, to Kaliyo, was another sign of an insane mind. Who needed sunglasses on Dromund Kaas?

#

Camhaoir studied Darth Jadus. Tall, imposing man -probably, voice changers were a thing- in hideous Sith garb. 

Inoculated on the Darth Side. Right.

Camhaoir was thankful she still wore her sunglasses. And also glad she inherited her mother’s invisibility in the Force.

Otherwise, Darth Jadus would probably kill her for what she was feeling.

Sith were so full of shit.

Oh, the Force was real and powerful. She witnessed it firsthand in the last war. Both from Jedi and Sith.

But fear for all? Inoculation on the dark side? Being his herald or messenger or whatever the kark he wanted? What absolute Sithspit.

#

“Hey, is that an Hkay unit?” Kaliyo asked absently.

“Huh?” Camhaoir asked, too busy glaring at the Mandalorian enclave.

“There.” Kaliyo smacked Camhaoir’s arm and pointed.

Camhaoir lowered her sunglasses slightly to get a better look and growled. “We have to leave. Now.”

Shoving the rest of the street taco into her mouth, she hopped off the railing she’d been sitting on and headed over to the taxi droid.

“What?” Kaliyo looked between the agent and the Hkay unit.

“Kaliyo, either hurry up or find your own way off-planet.” Camhaoir barked, shoving aside Sith and Imperial citizens to get to the only free taxi.

Kaliyo growled, brandishing a knife, baring her teeth at a Sith that tried to object. The Sith looked down at Kaliyo’s knife and backed up.

The Rattataki climbed into the taxi, Camhaoir pushed the pedal down to the floor before Kaliyo was properly in the vehicle.

“Hey!” Kaliyo cried as the sudden movement caused her to smack her face on the dashboard.

Camhaoir snarled and slowed down marginally, allowing Kaliyo to get comfortable.

“So,” Kaliyo lounged back in the passenger seat, “what was that about?”

Camhaoir’s answer was to growl and whip the taxi around a turn too quickly.

Scrambling for anything to hold so she didn’t fall out of the taxi, Kaliyo yelped and waited for the agent to bring the speeder back under control.

Camhaoir brought the speeder to rest just shy of wrapping it around one of the massive trees the planet sported, throwing the speeder in park fluidly.

“Don’t _ever_ mention that droid!” she hissed; hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “Not ever again. Not in front of Intelligence. Not Watcher Two. Nobody. Not even Keeper, do you understand me, Kaliyo?” She turned livid eyes to her companion.

Kaliyo blinked in surprise. She’d never seen Camhaoir this way before. It was new. It was exciting. The Rattataki found herself grinning a wide grin.

“Yeah, I got you. It can be our little secret. A secret between us girls.” Kaliyo smirked.

“Yes. A secret between us girls.” Camhaoir snorted, putting the speeder in drive once more.

Kaliyo studied her companion. Camhaoir often came across as emotionless with bouts of manic laughter, but mostly emotionless. Kaliyo thought it was because that’s how Imperials were. 

But Camhaoir’s accent was wrong, and this little display over the droid. 

Well, Kaliyo found it interesting. Maybe throwing in her lot with the Chiss wasn’t so bad after all.

But, Kaliyo might have to actually start wearing a seatbelt if Camhaoir’s driving was any indication. 

Kaliyo didn’t plan on dying as anti-climatically as could be in a speeder crash.


	10. Chapter 10

What Camhaoir wouldn’t give to have a Chiss’ olfactory senses. If she thought Hutta smelled bad, then Balmorra was tenfold worse.

She gaged the minute she stepped into the spaceport.

“Agent, you dying?” Kaliyo pummeled Camhaoir’s back. “Can I have your rifle?”

Camhaoir shoved the Rattataki away from her before scurrying back onto the ship. She had a mask that filtered out stenches somewhere in her luggage.

She looked through her things, growling when she couldn’t find it. 

Punching the crate she knelt beside caused some things to move and settle, revealing a helmet.

Camhaoir grunted. She knew the helmet was old, but it also had filters to help with the reek of Balmorra.

At least with the helmet she wouldn’t get the stares from Imperials and Chiss alike. The distrust from the Chiss, her magenta hair marking her as a half-breed. A permanent Outsider. The child of a traitor. The distrust of the Imperials because she wasn’t quite human enough and definitely the wrong type of alien.

Minutes later she emerged from the spaceport with the helmet firmly affixed to her face.

“Kaliyo, let’s go.” Camhaoir’s voice sounded strange through the helmet.

Kaliyo arched a brow but shrugged. The presence of the helmet wasn’t as important as general mayhem.

#

Camhaoir studied Gray Star. A Gran hiding in the Republic Military. She had to give it to him, it was genius.

“Kaliyo,” she tilted her head, never taking her eyes off the Gran, “watch the hallway. Make sure nobody is alive out there.”

Kaliyo groaned but did as ordered.

Camhaoir studied Gray Star for a few more seconds until she was sure Kaliyo stood guard at the entrance to the hallway.

Sighing, the agent twisted her helmet off, it let out a slight hiss as the seals decompressed. “Gray Star,” she noted the shock on the Gran’s face upon the revelation of her face, “I have a proposition for you.”

His eyes widened as her accent changed yet again. It went from Republic to Imperial to Nelvaan in a matter of minutes. “ _And that is_?” Gray Star hadn’t become head of the Resistance by being a horrendous judge of character and, it seemed, the Chiss in front of him, wasn’t going to double-cross him. Not after revealing her face.

A bitter semblance of a smile twisted her lips. “I’m going to let you stay in the Republic. Continue feeding information to the Resistance.”

“ _How? My cover is blown. It is why I needed the extraction_.”

“It’s not. There’s Jedi on the planet also helping the Resistance. I know. I saved them from a Sith.” Honestly, killing the Sith should’ve been harder. “And they’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Gray Star narrowed his eyes but nodded. “ _How do I get in touch with them_?”

“Oh,” Camhaoir lifted her rifle. “You don’t. I do.”

#

Kaliyo jumped as the sound of a rifle cracked and echoed through the hallway.

“Ow!” She shouted, covering her ears, and glaring at the agent as she came out from Gray Star’s cell.

Camhaoir arched a magenta eyebrow and put her helmet back on. “Let’s go. Job’s done.”

“You know, if I had known you were gonna shoot him with your rifle I wouldn’t have waited so close.” The Rattataki groused.

Camhaoir snorted and kept walking. It was a long walk back to the taxi stand.

#

Gray Star woke up with a Hutt of a headache, a sore shoulder, and in a room he didn’t recognize.

“Oh! You’re awake! Excellent!” a male voice said off to his right.

Sitting up, he looked around and saw another Chiss but this one had white hair and was male.

“Hello! I’m Jedi Bast!” He thrust out his hand. “I’m part of the Sixth Line and I work with the SIS and we are fascinated that you were able to build such a massive resistance network all while being just a soldier.”

Gray Star blinked at the Jedi. The Jedi had very white, pointed teeth and lapis-blue skin.

“ _Hello_?” Gray Star shook hands with the strange Jedi.

“Oh, we’re going to be fast friends, Gray Star.” Jedi Bast’s grin widened.

#

Sanju was an excellent kisser and even better in bed. Camhaoir could spend days lost in the haze that was carnal bliss, exploring Sanju’s body but that wasn’t an option.

But still, she felt nothing. Only the nerve endings, the receptors in her brain informed her she was aroused.

Gazing down at his face, she wondered why she didn't feel anything.

Once her sexual desires were sated, Sanju evoked no feelings in her. Nothing. 

Shrugging, she rolled out of bed and dressed. He’d stay asleep forever. 

Sanju was too good an agent to let him stay alive. 

“Shame.” Her fingers stroked down his cheek. “You were adorable.”

Twisting her helmet back in place she made her way out of his room. Eventually, he’d be missed, and they’d discover the body. Hopefully, it’d be in enough time that he hadn’t starved to death.

Although, she turned back, looking at the room and his body through the visor of her helmet.

She couldn’t risk him waking either.

“A real shame.” She lied to herself as she knocked over the container of blaster grease by his door. 

The match flared magenta, like her hair, when she struck it before burning the usual teal flame. Nelvaan matches burned teal. She never knew why and at the moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the potential damage this little teal flame could cause.

She watched the flame flicker before she dropped it onto the grease-soaked carpet before turning away and leaving.

She’d learn later that the fire killed twenty other sleeping Imperials.

That the fire took days to put out due to the ruined planet’s air.

She still wouldn’t feel anything.


	11. Chapter 11

Kaliyo found Camhaoir staring into space in the cockpit.

“Agent!” The Rattataki made sure to say the word crisply.

“Hmm?” The Chissling -a term Kaliyo came up with upon discovering Camhaoir’s half-breed status- asked, her attention still firmly on the stars outside the ship.

“Why did you kill Sanju?” Kaliyo plopped inelegantly into the co-pilot’s chair. “He was sweet on you. And a good little Imperial.”

Camhaoir didn’t answer for so long Kaliyo thought she never would.

“That’s why.” Camhaoir spoke softly.

“Because he was a good little Imperial?” Kaliyo felt her brows rise.

“The galaxy would be much better off without so many in it, don’t you think?” Camhaoir turned to look at her companion.

“Isn’t that treason?” The Rattataki smirked.

The agent shrugged. “If they kill me,” she smiled, a look Kaliyo had never seen before, “I’ll make sure to take out as many as possible before I go.” She turned to meet the Rattataki’s eyes. “Isn’t it the goal, Kaliyo? To go out with a bang and take out as many enemies as possible?”

Kaliyo realized something, perhaps for the first time. Camhaoir did not view herself as Imperial. And she very much doubted the Chissling viewed herself as Chiss either.

“Who isn't the enemy?” Kaliyo heard herself ask.

“So far?” Camhaoir asked, whistling as she thought. “You. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Kaliyo wasn’t so sure. “Hell yeah!”

Camhaoir grinned, the grin a mockery. The grin was devoid of emotion. Devoid of anything and everything. That grin, Kaliyo decided was a black hole. 


	12. Chapter 12

“It’s interesting what your genetics allow you to do.” Watcher Two, Shara said absently, looking at Camhaoir as if the Agent was a very interesting bug.

“I beg your pardon?” Camhaoir asked, an edge to her smile.

Watcher Two invited her out for drinks. If Camhaoir knew the _human_ -and Camhaoir used that term loosely, she knew a clone when she scented one- merely wanted the opportunity to study her like a science experiment, Camhaoir would’ve declined the offer.

“Mongrel,” Shara at least had the decency to blush. “Half-breed. And alien at that. It’s interesting. You’re basically the perfect operative, the perfect agent probably because of your unconventional DNA.” Her eyes took their time going over Camhaoir’s unconventional features. “Have you ever thought of dying your hair? Getting your fur removed? Contacts to look like a normal Chiss? The only thing that’s really preventing you from being the perfect agent is your looks.”

Camhaoir felt a surge of emotion that she quickly buried. “My unusual looks are what convinces people I’m not an Imperial when I’m doing undercover work. We know how the Empire views mongrels.”

“True.” Shara smiled, pleased with herself for some reason. “You being a mongrel is probably what makes you so good at your job. It’s only when you’re acting as an Agent while in the Empire that your looks are really a problem. But we’ll just send one of the human agents instead of you.” Taking a sip of her drink she shrugged. “After all, speaking to a fellow citizen and human ought to ease at least some of their misgivings about working with Intelligence.”

A flash of anger turned Camhaoir’s smile into a dagger. “Yes, anything to make the citizens more at ease.”

Watcher Two.

The perfect example of why Camhaoir thought a eugenics program was a terrible idea. No emotion, only heartless curiosity.

Watcher Two didn’t view Camhaoir as a person, only an object to be studied. Her backhanded compliments were more insulting than being insulted outright. 

Camhaoir wasn’t a person. And she wasn’t even an asset. She was a thing.


	13. Chapter 13

“You let him go!” Kaliyo’s fist collided with Camhaoir’s face the second they walked onto the ship.

Camhaoir laughed, dodging the Rattataki’s second punch. “Shut up and show me!” She ducked and dodged her companion’s punches, laughing as Kaliyo became angrier and angrier with each miss.

“You betrayed me!” Kaliyo hissed, her fist clipping Camhaoir’s jaw.

The Chissling’s answer was to laugh and tackle Kaliyo to the ground, pinning the woman’s arms and raining punch after punch at the Rattataki’s face. 

“Are you really so surprised, Kaliyo?” Camhaoir laughed manically. “Was my betrayal really a surprise? Or are you only angry because I betrayed you first?”

Kaliyo howled, her legs wrapping around Camhaoir’s chest and shoving the agent to the floor. 

The two women fought, tooth and nail, neither gaining the upper hand. The fight was brutal.

It ended with Camhaoir’s claws across Kaliyo’s face and her teeth ripping off the Rattataki's ear.

“Ow!” Kaliyo shoved Camhaoir away.

Camhaoir spat out the ear and smiled, blood streaming down her face from the various cuts and Kaliyo’s ear.

“Come now, Kaliyo, did you honestly think this would go any other way?” the Chissling hissed in cruel glee.

“You’ll regret this!” Kaliyo ground out through gritted teeth.

“I regret a great many things, Kaliyo, but finding out information on you won’t be one of them,” Camhaoir growled, her bloodied claws unsheathed and her fangs bared.

Kaliyo felt a shiver travel down her spine. But never one to show fear, she hissed and stalked away. “This isn’t over!”

The Agent watched, a sneer on her face, as the Rattataki limped away. Really? Why was Kaliyo so surprised that Camhaoir let Watcher X go?

It was as if the Rattataki hadn’t been paying attention to anything Camhaoir did. Camhaoir didn’t do anything to please the Empire. And it wasn’t the bribe of knowing things about Kaliyo that cemented Camhaoir’s decision to let the man go.

No, it was how him being free could kark over the Empire. How it would rankle Imperial Intelligence that an unwanted asset got away.

Snorting, she spat out a globule of blood onto the floor. “Twovee. Clean that up.” She rasped, sauntering into her private room and towards the refresher, looking forward to the ways Kaliyo would try and get even with whatever slight she imagined Camhaoir did.


	14. Chapter 14

Camhaoir decided Tatooine was a fairly alright planet. Yes, it was exceedingly unpleasant. The suns burned her skin, the sand got into her hair and the fur along her spine, the intense heat was making it hard for her to breath. But, if one wanted to disappear, this would be one of the best planets to do it on.

Take the terror cell. It had been surviving on this planet for years and nobody knew about it until recently.

Her parents should’ve run here instead of Nelvaan.

A burning breeze blew a wave of sand into her face, the coarse sand scratching her skin.

It hurt.

This planet didn’t want settlers. It barely wanted the Jawas and Sandpeople.

The planet was death incarnate. But so were a plethora of other planets in the galaxy.

Growing up on Nelvaan was wonderful, peaceful, but it hadn’t hardened her properly. If she’d grown up on Tatooine, then she would be perfect.

She’d be stone and nothing would be able to get to her.

That’s what she wanted since she couldn’t die.

Camhaoir wanted to not feel. Since she couldn’t literally be dead she wanted to be dead in every other way that counted.

Not to feel lonely or bitter or constant rage. 

Nobody knew her. Nobody bothered to know her. She was a tool, she wasn’t supposed to feel.

Not even Kaliyo knew her. The Rattataki didn’t even know the first thing about Camhaoir. Kaliyo’s complete lack of understanding of why the agent let Watcher X go was proof of that.

If Camhaoir didn’t feel then she wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that nobody saw her. She just wanted somebody to see her.


	15. Chapter 15

Camhaoir let the women get twenty yards away before raising her rifle and taking the shot.

The Chissling watched the woman crumple to the ground through her sniper scope. One good blaster bolt through the back of the head.

“Hey, you said you’d let her live.” Kaliyo side-eyed Camhaoir.

“I said a lot of things.” Camhaoir sniffed, slinging her sniper rifle across her back. “Torch the camp.”

Kaliyo opened her mouth to say something only to shake her head and turn away, she knew better by now than to question Camhaoir’s homicidal tendencies.

Camhaoir waited until the Rattataki was a good distance away before she bent over the Old Man.

“Old Man. And what did your moniker use to be? You couldn’t have always gone by Old Man.” She whispered to herself.

The Old Man, he’d chewed on a poisoned capsule before he could be taken hostage. She smirked. Right, poisoned capsule.

She’d be respected by the Empire before she ever believed the old man killed himself. 

“Do you think I’m as stupid as my superiors? That I’d be fooled by your poison?” She cackled, yanking out a knife. “You’re a karking moron.”

Plunging her knife deep into the Old Man’s chest she watched with cruel satisfaction as his eyes burst open, his gaze eerily finding hers through her sunglasses.

“Never bluff a bluffer.” Camhaoir hissed as she began using her knife to saw through his ribcage. “You’re an amateur compared to me. You tell your entire cell that they’re all amateurs compared to me.” Leaning down, she studied the old man’s eye, noting the small contact camera, she scoffed, looking at the receiver in his ear made to look like a piercing. “I’m coming for you. And when I find you, you’re going to wish I hadn’t.”

The camera blinked up at her, her ghastly smile spread rictus over her face as she cut out the Old Man’s heart.

Ripping the heart from his chest, she growled, her smile curving to manic as she took a bite out of the organ, letting the blood flow down her face, dripping onto the Old Man’s face, obscuring the camera in his eye.

Camhaoir purred, her free hand reaching out to wipe the blood off the contact lens, making sure that whoever was watching watched her devour the Old Man’s heart.

“The camp is rigged to blow.” Kaliyo said as Camhaoir licked the last bit of blood from her hands.

“Wonderful.” Camhaoir stood, turning to gaze at her companion.

Kaliyo flinched away. She couldn't help it. She’d seen some pretty karked up things, hell, she’d done most of them, but she’d never ripped out a man’s heart and ate it in front of a camera feed. There were just some things even Kaliyo wouldn’t do.

“Isn’t that considered cannibalism?” She asked instead, indicating the chest cavity.

“I’m not human, it’s not cannibalism.” Camhaoir answered. “And now they fear me.” Her grin was the grin of a skull.

Kaliyo shivered in revulsion, fear, and a little bit of excitement. 


End file.
